


Tumblr ficlets

by izazov



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Character Death, Character Study, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:13:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of my tumblr drabbles and ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It could be called a game, this thing they’re doing. 

It always starts with words. His come out as taunts and insults, Thor’s as a strange mixture of pleas and accusations. It is a first step, and never lasts long. It did, once, when Thor used the word ‘brother’ instead of his name, and the look in his eyes was that of hope, not bitter resignation. Blows come next. They last longer than words, getting increasingly deadlier with each passing encounter. It ends with blood and broken bones, and a promise of a next fight.

It makes no sense, has no clear purpose, and, lately, it is earning him raised eyebrows and suspicious looks from his allies.

“Why do you fight him? Do you even want to win?” Doom asks him after one spectacularly messy encounter.

Pausing in healing his broken left arm, Loki grins. “Of course I intend to win, but until I do, I have every intention of enjoying the game.”

Loki can’t see Doom’s expression, but the distaste in his voice is quite clear. “A game? To what end?”

“I still haven’t decided,” he says, thoughtful. He doesn’t plan things anymore, throne of Asgard nothing but an almost forgotten memory in the back of his mind. Chaos, destruction, and finding all the possible ways of making Thor and his sycophants bleed, is what passes as his life’s goal at the moment. His grin widens at the soft sigh of frustration coming from behind his companion’s mask. “Games don’t have to have goals or rules, Victor. They only have to provide entertainment.”

So, yes, it could be called a game, this thing they’re doing, but every game has to have at least one rule. Loki becomes aware of this important fact when it’s too late to stop playing.

******

Red and gold.

Those have always been Thor’s colors as long as Loki could remember. But there is too much red on Thor’s face right now. Too much red everywhere. Not nearly enough gold.

Loki has no idea what has happened. How it could have happened. It was just another fight. Nothing they haven’t done a hundred – thousand – times by now. He didn’t do anything Thor hasn’t at least once dodged, blocked, or simply avoided by being Thor.

Except, this time, he apparently did.

It takes him four steps, four steps he really doesn’t want to take, to reach Thor’s kneeling form. He’s dimly aware of the sounds of battle still going on around them, aware that his life is in very clear danger with all the other Avengers still up and fighting. As much as he wants to react to what his survival instincts are demanding of him, he cannot muster enough will to care, his entire existence narrowing down to a bowed blonde head of a man he once called brother.

His hand moves almost of its own volition, his fingers wrapping loosely around Thor’s neck, forcing his head up. There’s a large gash on Thor’s forehead, rivulets of blood streaming down Thor’s ashen – not gold, not now, not ever again – face. His blue eyes are half-closed and unfocused. Almost lifeless. It makes Loki want to tighten his grip on Thor’s neck and make the life and strength return to them. Make the great oaf do what he does best – fight. He also wants to run away but his body refuses to move.

“Thor,” he whispers, but the sound of it bears no resemblance to his voice. It’s more an echo of a voice belonging to a boy who died long ago. The protective numbness of shock at the sight of Thor falling to his knees is slowly being replaced by a feeling he doesn’t want to name. He knows it is not triumph, he wants it to be anger, but he fears it’s something else entirely. The hand he has closed around Thor’s throat shakes violently as he tries again, his famed tongue bereft of all words but one. “Thor.”

For a moment – the longest moment in Loki’s entire existence – Thor remains unresponsive. Then, slowly, his eyes clear, recognition dawning in them as they focus on Loki’s face.

“Brother,” he says softly, his lips curving in a small smile, his teeth smeared red each a silent accusation. “You win.”

Is it the word ‘brother’, or the weight of that monstrous feeling that won’t let him breathe, think or flee this damn place, that makes Loki crumble to his knees next to Thor, he doesn’t know, nor does he care. He is slowly starting to realize that caring about anything – or anyone – isn’t going to be an issue soon.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, his vision blurring as his eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Thor whispers, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each labored breath, his hand leaving a wet, bloody handprint on the back of Loki’s neck as he brings their foreheads together as he’s done so many times in the past. “I forgive you.”

******

When the smoke clears, Iron Man and Banner are the ones to find the still body of their friend cradled against the body of his murderer.

“No one was supposed to die,” are the only words out of Loki’s mouth, and the blank, dead look in his eyes is what makes Iron Man stop the Hulk from tearing him apart.

After all, it is hardly a punishment to kill someone who has nothing to live for.


	2. Chapter 2

When Thor fights, it is hardly poetry in motion. But poetry is not what Loki is after. He wants the raw, elemental force that crackles all around Thor as he swings Mjölnir in wide arc, barely missing one of his clones. Loki smirks at that, his eyes hungrily drinking in the way Thor’s muscles ripple under his skin, a light sheen of sweat making it gleam golden, as he dodges yet another blow.

Loki shivers, even under the sweltering heat of New York in the middle of summer, the need to taste the salt from the golden skin of his not-brother making his mouth water.

He moves lazily, hidden from view, watching with rapt attention as Thor fights against his clones, his heart throbbing wildly against his chest, his cock almost painfully hard, Loki thinks he could come from merely watching Thor the way he is now – wild, powerful, magnificent, the ground trembling under the force of his righteous fury.

As his hand moves lower, toward the clasps of his armor, Loki wonders briefly what would happen if he lifts the spell this time, and allows Thor to see him as he comes, spurting all over his hand, his eyes fixed firmly on Thor’s own.

An image flashes inside his mind – blue eyes widening in shock, then darkening with desire – and, with a muffled groan, Loki shudders all over, his hand closing over his cock.

Loki will not do it, not today. He enjoys this far too much to spoil it so soon. But one day? He will.


	3. Chapter 3

The music fades into buzzing noise inside his mind, the rush of blood in his ears drowning out all other sounds. So this is how madness feels. Bliss and pain alike, his blood burning with a need he cannot name, as he takes the first step toward his brother, who watches him with careful eyes as the smile fades from his lips, his expression shifting into something raw, vulnerable, and open on his youthful face.

Tears are sliding down his cheeks, as Thor quickens his steps, desperate to reach his brother, but as to what end, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t think, cannot think, all of him reduced to this all-consuming ache inside his chest, his body moving forward of its own volition, stopping a mere step away from Loki as his hand moves, fingers wrapping around Loki’s throat, feeling the rise of his Adam’s apple as Loki takes a shuddering breath that spreads through his entire body.

Thor tightens his hold momentarily, his vision flashing red, the sound of his heartbeat almost deafening, and in one moment of perfect clarity, he understands how fragile is the life beneath his fingers, how easy it would be to squeeze tighter, watch the light slowly fade from green eyes, forever silencing that wicked mouth.

But instead he chooses different kind of death, using the grip he has on Loki’s throat to pull him closer, and smash their lips together in a bruising kiss, his other tangling in the soft hair on the nape of Loki’s neck. The kiss is hard and messy, clash of teeth and tongue, more a punishment than invitation, and he has to wrench himself free before he bites on Loki’s lip, seeking blood.

He is breathing heavily, his grip on the back of Loki’s neck that of a drowning man, as he searches for something on his brother’s face before reaching out and tearing the shirt off Loki’s shoulders. He is shaking all over, his mind muddled, and he is drowning, reaching out toward Loki, but is it to be his salvation or damnation, he does not know. Nor does he care, as Loki reaches back, carefully, slowly, as if seeking his permission. And as Loki starts to untie the laces on his shirt, Thor gives in.


	4. Chapter 4

Eir shakes her head, the look on her face speaking louder than words.

“There has to be something, anything. If not here then-” Thor pleads, amazed at his ability to form words when he feels like he is one step from shattering into pieces. Surrender is not in his nature, but how do you fight something you can’t see? He is Thor Odinson, the King of Asgard, songs have been sung about his courage and determination, entire armies have fallen at his feet, and yet, here he is, unable to save the one person who means everything to him.

Eir lowers her gaze, but not before Thor has a chance to see the pity in her eyes. “Sadly, there is not. Prince Loki’s own Jotunn constitution is fighting against him. His condition is progressing rapidly… it will not be long before…”

She trails off, the unspoken word hanging heavily in the silence between them. Thor swallows, his throat sandpaper rough, and dismisses her with a wave of her hand.

Taking a deep breath, Thor crushes the impulse to howl at the injustice of Loki’s fate – of _their_ fate – clenching his hands into fists. He can hear the sound of thunder rolling in the distance, but he cares little for the storm that is starting to rage outside, lost and caught helpless in the one inside his very soul.

What hurts the most is the bitter knowledge of how much time they had lost fighting, drawing blood with words and weapons, resentment, hate and bitter betrayal clouding the truth of the love they have always felt for one another.

And now, with all that behind them, having the knowledge of how Loki’s lips taste, how soft his skin truly is beneath Thor’s fingers, Thor is supposed to have it all wrenched from his grasp.

He is already losing Loki, sickness slowly eating away at him, wiping away the memories from Loki’s mind, as if they have never truly existed, only a desperate figment of Thor’s foolish mind. And that is not even the worst. The worst being the light slowly dimming in Loki’s eyes, everything that is him, his spirit and brilliant mind, slowly disappearing under the relentless assault from a lowly Midgardian sickness that has finally proved to be the one opponent Thor is not able to vanquish. And the price?

_Everything_.

Taking another deep breath, Thor forces his features to relax into something resembling a smile, and enters Loki’s room. He is standing by the window, his back turned, and Thor has no idea what he wants more – to run or grip Loki tightly never to let go.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki is hiding. Although, even if he can elude Thor, he cannot hide from himself. Whether he kept his eyes open or shut, images from last night keep plaguing his mind. Images of blue eyes, he knows even better than his own, burning with desire for him. And it is almost ironic, how Loki has spent most of his life trying to escape Thor’s shadow, always chasing after the golden son, never stopping to think what is it he truly wants – no, _needs_ – from his brother.

Well, not until last night. And the look of wonder in Thor’s eyes as he came, buried deep in Loki, as if he has finally found something he has always been searching for. And Loki had realized, still reeling from the force of his own orgasm, that he will never be free of Thor, his heart, soul, and now even his body, forever holding Thor’s mark.

Thor may be a sentimental fool, words of love so easy slipping from his lips, but Loki is no less a fool. He knows just how deep chasm had opened under them when Thor had leaned in for that second kiss. The first could have been dismissed with too much drink, curiosity, a number of things. But that second kiss had been deliberate. And avoidable. It had been in Loki’s power to pull back, Thor had given him a chance. Loki simply chose not to.

And now here he is, his mind a mess of doubts and fears, his body yearning after Thor’s touch. Soft, almost reverent, as if Loki is made of porcelain, not muscle and bones. It should be impossible for hands that wield Mjölnir to be capable of such tenderness, but it is not. Loki’s entire body bears witness to that.

Lost in thought, his eyes closed, Loki doesn’t hear the footsteps coming his way. It is only when two strong hands wrap around his waist that his eyes fly open.

A shudder runs through his entire body, and there are so many things he wants to say. Things he should say. Things about sin and wrong and danger, but when he opens his mouth, all he can manage is soft, almost breathless, “How did you find me?”.

Thor chuckles, his warm breath ghosting over Loki’s ear. “You may be able to hide even from Heimdall, brother, but I will always find you.”


	6. Chapter 6

When the lights fade, it is the familiar sight of the Bifrost bridge that greets Thor.

It takes him a moment to gather himself, this form of travel draining what little he has left of his strength. He blinks away the memory of thousand different colours exploding behind his closed lids, his eyes focusing on the only other person on the bridge beside him.

Loki had already let go of the Tesseract, taking a step away from Thor, but that is all. Not that there is a way out of this for him now. And considering the clear view of the shattered end of the bridge, the irony and heartbreak of that fact is not lost on Thor.

He looks as weary as Thor himself is feeling, looking at Thor with unreadable, guarded eyes. He is facing a stranger, and Thor can accept that truth now. Stranger with motives, goals and thoughts that are a mystery to Thor, but he is willing to learn. He needs to. Almost unconsciously, his hand flies to the already healing wound on his side. His life may very well depend on it.

Loki catches his gesture, a flash of something sparking in his eyes for a fleeting moment, before they settle back into their guarded expression. And Thor wonders, with a flash of hurt he cannot escape, if he were to look, would he find a smirk of vicious satisfaction behind the muzzle on Loki’s face.

“I used to dream of you falling,” Thor says softly, more to himself than Loki. Those are not the words he means to say. In fact, he does not want to say anything at all, but it is as if he has no control over his mouth, words of his darkest hours pouring from his lips. “I know, if you could, you would probably call me sentimental. Call me a fool. You would not even tell a lie,” Loki’s eyes narrow slightly, uncertainty and something that almost looks like hurt, flashing in them, but Thor doesn’t dare trust his eyes. They see what they want to see, an almost identical face, but that face belongs to Thor’s brother. Not the stranger who merely wears his face. “Sometimes I have even managed to save you. Those were good dreams. Most nights… I failed. Failed you. If I knew how to draw, I could easily draw your face as you kept falling further from my reach. I have seen it enough times to have it memorized for the rest of my days.”

Thor stops, his voice cracking at the edges. A part of him knows this to be futile, serving only in scratching open a wound that has yet to heal, but he will never get a chance at this. Chance to make Loki listen to what Thor has to say, without Loki’s poisonous tongue throwing all back at him.

“I still welcomed the dreams, though,” Thor continues after a moment. There is fire in Loki’s eyes now, and Thor can easily imagine all manners of insults gathering behind the muzzle on Loki’s mouth. A flash of dark satisfaction tugs at Thor’s heart, but his words come out soft. Sad. As a goodbye should. “Whether you ended up falling, or you took my hand, you were alive in my dreams. And for a moment, no matter how fleeting, I had my brother back. But then the dawn would inevitably come, and I would lose you again.”

Loki’s eyes are positively murderous now, his chained hands balled into fists, and still there is a small part of Thor that wants nothing but take the chains and the muzzle off, and simply hug Loki. Sentimental fool, that he may be, but he is not foolish. Never again.

“When Father told me that you live, that had been the happiest moment of my life. Now I would gladly give half of my soul to wake up.”

With that, Thor turns to go. He doesn’t bother to look back. He doesn’t even have to. He takes only three steps before the clinking of chains tells him that Loki is following.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony's first reaction is to call his suit. He almost does it, but his brain manages to override his instinct in the last second. There are first a few facts he needs to check before he involves himself into a bizarre and very likely catastrophic situation.

He takes a long, deeply satisfying sip of coffee, shutting his eyes. He waits a few moments, just to make it safe, then reluctantly peers one eye open.

_Nope, still there_ , he thinks, frowning at the steaming cup of coffee in his hand, wondering why his mind has been inflicted with this particular hallucination. It’s not that he has anything against boy on boy action, to everyone their own, being pretty much Tony’s personal philosophy when it comes to sex. But why the hell this boy with that one?! Although, come to think of it, if he were ever to refer to either of the two as a boy directly to their face, he is 94% sure he’d be flying through yet another of his windows.

“JARVIS?” He calls, taking a sip of coffee, his eyes resting on the pair making out outside on his landing pad. “Well, that’s a nice move,” he murmurs, impressed, when the smaller one wraps his legs around the taller one’s waist, the latter rising to his feet in one graceful move, without breaking their kiss.

_“Sir?”_

“JARVIS, be a pal and tell me is everything okay with my eyesight.”

_“I beg your pardon?”_

“My eyesight,” Tony pauses his admiration of the lung capacity belonging to the pair outside, to throw a glare at his omnipresent AI. “Medical scan. And make it snappy.”

“Are you experiencing problems with your eyesight, sir?”

“That’s what I need you to tell me.”

_“You cannot tell?”_

“Would I be asking for a scan if I could?”

_“Of course not, sir. Even though it should be fairly evident whether or not one’s eyesight is impaired.”_

Tony smiles at his coffee, tight-lipped. “You do know I made you, right, JARVIS? I could just as easily re-write your program. Maybe I should do it anyway, I’m in a mood for some hero-worship.”

“Would you like me to give you a number of times you have made that threat, sir? I do keep official record.”

“You’re so efficient, and here I am, still waiting for that scan,” Tony says, his eyebrows raised. “Snark less, work more.”

_“Very well, sir.”_

The makeout session outside grows heated, the pair dry humping each other, while simultaneously trying to fuse their bodies together, for Tony and anyone flying over this part of New York to see. Tony knows he should stop watching the scene outside, but it is free gay porn with loads of past and present emotional baggage, and Tony never could say no to temptation.

_“Your eyesight shows no signs of deterioration, and is functioning as well is expected for someone of your age. I have also taken liberty of scanning your brain. Your neural pathways show no signs of being influenced by chemicals or illness.”_

Tony grimaces. “Hm, I’m healthy and sane, so that must… hey, what do you mean by someone of my age? Are you calling me old?”

_“I am merely implying that it is a known fact that human eyesight grows progressively worse with age.”_

“And I’m not implying a damn thing when I say I’m your boss, and from now on we do not talk about aging under this roof. Ever. Under no circumstances. Got that?

_“As you wish, sir.”_

“So,” Tony drawls, taking a deep breath. “Those two outside are really…”

_“Mr. Odinson and Mr. Odinson,”_ JARVIS offers helpfully when Tony trails off, the names unwilling to leave his mouth.

“Jesus, JARVIS, you really know how to sum up an alien incestual relationship.”

_“That is why you have me, sir. But I feel the need to point out that Mr. Loki is not in fact…”_

“Yeah, I know all about Loki turning blue at times, but have you heard Thor when he gets drunk enough? It’s all my brother this, my brother that,” Tony huffs out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “It’s never the little shit who tried to stab me in the back and turned my very good friend Tony Stark into a penguin. A penguin, JARVIS!” Tony exclaims, indignant, shuddering at the memory. In one moment he had been in the air, aiming his rockets at Loki’s grinning face, and the next, plummeting down, the ground and his imminent demise becoming closer and closer.

_“A penguin is a bird that cannot fly, sir. I suspect Mr. Odinson thought it ironic.”_

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ironic? If not for Natasha, I would be a smear on the pavement, and you call it ironic. Seriously, JARVIS, do you want me to re-program you?” Tony throws a glare at the ceiling, but JARVIS knows it is meant for him. “And stop calling Loki Mr. Odinson. Considering that he’s currently climbing Thor like a tree, it’s way too early for me to have to deal with the incest factor of the mess outside on top of… well, _Loki factor_.”

_“Very well, sir. Is there any particular title you wish me to assign to him?”_

Tony takes a moment to think about that, but his eyes wander back to the scene outside – Thor’s hands tangled in Loki’s hair, pulling it back, his face obscured by the mess of his blond hair, but Tony can imagine what he is doing to Loki’s neck. Loki’s hands are clutching desperately at Thor’s shoulders, and the look on his face, even at this distance, in no way resembles his usual psychotic malice. Tony would actually prefer it over the look of naked desire on Loki’s face.

“Asshole,” Tony says, his lips pressing into a thin line.

_“Sir? If I may offer a suggestion? I do not think it would be prudent to use that term in front of Mr. Odinson in regards to his brother.”_

“Don’t you mean fucktoy, JARVIS?” 

_“What I mean, sir, is that I have taken liberty to scan Mr. Odinson’s vital signs. He does not appear to be suffering from any external influence. Considering that the Aesir physiology is in many ways compatible and similar to human, I have run a diagnostic to determine which emotion could Mr. Odinson’s physical reaction be ascribed to.”_

Tony shuts his eyes for a second, feeling a massive headache coming. It is way too early for this. And what particular deity had he offended this time, so it couldn’t be Steve standing here, and not him. Sighing, he raises the mug to his lips, contemplating switching to scotch. “Yeah? And what did you find out?”

JARVIS hesitates, and Tony just knows he will have to switch to scotch now. No matter the time of day. It is bound to be some deep shit if JARVIS finds it necessary to soften the blow. 

_“Actually, I have used your vital signs as a reference.”_

“JARVIS, do I want to know why you keep a record of how my body responds to emotions?”

_“Probably not, sir. But the reaction Mr. Odinson has in regards to his brother is almost identical, when translated to the language of the human body, to the one you have whenever Miss Potts stays the night.”_

“We will have words, JARVIS, serious words about respecting one’s privacy, especially your boss’ privacy, later,” sighing, Tony rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand. “So, what you are saying, and doing a fine job at making it as diplomatic as possible, is that this,” he inclines his head to the pair still going strong outside, “is love?” 

_“And it is mutual,”_ JARVIS adds oh so very unhelpfully.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony sets the mug aside, taking a step closer to the glass. Pushing the fact of who they are aside, Tony takes a look of them as just two men, without any previous knowledge of their shared past. What he sees? Blond head leaning against the dark one, long fingers caressing the side of Thor’s face gently, almost as gentle as the smile that plays on Loki’s lips as Thor looks down on him as if he’s been traveling an eternity through a desert, only now finding an oasis…

“Well, fuck.” Tony says, awed, turning his back on them. Kinky, wrong sex is one thing, but this? This is an entirely different matter. An intimate, naked moment of mutual recognition, that is way, way worse than the kinky, wrong, space Vikings incestual gay sex. 

“JARVIS?”

_“Yes, sir?”_

“I have a plan.”

_“That is a good thing to know, sir. What is it?”_

“I’m going back to sleep,” Tony says, feeling quite proud of himself. “Wake me up when this becomes public knowledge.”

_“Sir, would it not be wiser to alert the other Avengers about the recent development in the brothers Odinson’s relationship?”_

Tony snorts. “So they can shoot the messenger? No thank you. I’m washing my hand of this. With any luck, Steve will be the one to play that role.”

_“But what if Dr. Banner sees them first?”_

Tony frowns, turning that thought in his mind. There will be serious damage to his property, that is for certain, but Tony can afford himself to renovate again. As for Bruce, Thor will keep him and Loki from killing each other, so there’s that.

Taking a deep breath, Tony allows himself a smug smile. “I like this plan, JARVIS, don’t try to persuade me otherwise. Don’t forget. Wake me after Fury is done with his apoplexy. Also… you know it already.”

_“I will record the entire event, sir.”_

With that, Tony’s smile widens. This is the biggest mess since the start of the Avengers, and, for once, he is completely innocent.

“JARVIS, what are the chances of this not leaking to the public?”

_“Considering their lack of modesty, shame and human sense of indecent exposure, I would dare say, none, sir.”_

“And what are your estimations on how long until it all blows down once it leaks on YouTube?”

_“Taking in regard their rather unique relationship and recent history, not to mention their physical appearance, somewhere in the next ten to fifteen years.”_

Tony’s smile turns predatory. That is a long time to have Fury’s eyes off of him. Whistling softly, Tony goes back to his bedroom, settling himself back into his bed. He does have a lot of sleep to make up for, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Loki stops keeping count after the cycle starts anew for the seventy-eight time. He only tries to stop counting the number of times Thor had died since the beginning of this chaos.

Today brings the number up to one hundred and twenty two.

Loki decides that he doesn’t want to count anymore.

****

When the madness of time rewinding itself around him had only just begun, Loki did his best to make some sense of it. Find a pattern. It didn’t take him long to concede defeat. Time wasn’t the key. A single cycle could last a day, or it could last an entire month, depending on Loki’s actions. There was no certainty to it. Well, there was one, but it only made everything infinitely more complicated.

****

He wasn’t there when Thor had died for the first time. He was in hiding, posing as just another ordinary human, biding his time until he was strong enough to escape this forsaken realm. Thor and the other Avengers were the least of his worries then. It feels now as if that day – the very first day – has happened in another lifetime. But Loki can still recall every detail of it with perfect clarity.

Making his way through crowded streets of London, feeling like a cornered animal, his fingers itching with a desire to lash out at all those nameless ants around him, scurrying in all directions, blissfully ignorant of what is heading their way. He doesn’t know what made him pause and join a small group of people gathered in front of one of many London’s shop windows. Maybe it had been curiosity, or petty satisfaction with how utterly horrified they had looked, he can’t be sure, nor is it really important. When he pushed his way through a gathered crowd of Londoners, he’d done it with a simple goal of distracting himself from the fear that was gnawing at his insides. He didn’t expect to see a picture of Thor’s face, smiling at him from a dozen TV-screens, the words – _Chaos in New York. Thor dead_ – repeating themselves on endless loop underneath it. Disbelief had been his initial reaction, anger following shortly after, but it hadn’t been triumph at the end of that particular emotional chain.

It could be called poetic, or ironic, but Loki’s life has taken a turn into unknown only two times, and both times it had been triggered by a simple touch of another’s hand. First time, it had been a Jotunn grabbing the hand of the younger prince of Asgard in desperation. It ended with the prince throwing himself into an abyss. Second time, a woman had squeezed the hand of a crying stranger in comfort. A moment later, the world reset itself.

****

All of this is Loki’s fault. That much is clear considering the fact that the cycle always starts with him arriving on Earth, with the Chitauri and _him_ on his heels. It’s the matter of _how_ that eludes him. Not once does he stop to consider _why_ – too philosophical and highly impractical in his current situation.

It takes him only one cycle to realize that, as far as he knows, he is the only one aware of the loop. Also, his actions can change the future events. All but one. Predictably, it’s the only one he cares about.

If he fights the Avengers, Thor dies. If he helps them, Thor dies. If he tries to make a deal with the Other, Thor dies. If he uses his magic to try to save his life, Thor still dies.

It doesn’t matter what he does or does not do. It makes no difference whether Loki is there to see it or not, Thor _always_ dies.

And the cycle starts again.

**** 

The biggest downside of Loki’s failed attempts at saving Thor’s life, is that he is almost always there to witness his death. The manner of it varies, but there is one constant – blood. Lately, Loki cannot stand to see anything painted red. It makes him physically ill. 

****

It’s after the death fifty five that Loki starts to contemplate suicide. After Thor dies for the sixty first time, the first thing Loki does after he finds himself at the starting point, is reaching for his dagger. He doesn’t use it, though. He prefers to think the reason for it is that with him dead, time might not reset itself if Thor dies.

It’s certainly preferable to the alternative.

****

With no future in sight, one is sure to turn to the past. Loki becomes aware of that fact after the death eighty six. 

He is back at the beginning, trying to wipe away the non-existent blood stains from his hands when it comes in a flash. A question he’s been dreading this entire time.

_Why? Why are you trying to save him?_

To save himself from the mess he’s gotten himself into? For love? Centuries of life spent together? For a way to get back to Asgard’s good graces? A chance to throw it into Thor’s face? Could it even be guilt? All of it? Nothing?

It feels like having thousand voices – all of them sounding like his own – screaming in his head, demanding the answer. Loki manages to shut them, focusing instead on how, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he’ll have to face them again. As well as he knows there is another question simmering in the deepest recess of his mind, one that is closely tied to this one.

_Who are you? Odinson or Laufeyson? Or just Loki?_

****

It’s the death ninety nine, and Loki doesn’t even expect this plan to work. He does it anyway. He’s just not sure who’s he punishing when he betrays the Avengers to the Other in exchange for Thor’s life.

When the wretched creature breaks his word, and rips Thor’s heart out of his chest in front of Loki, Loki pays him no mind, his eyes fixed firmly on Thor’s, but what he finds there is not hatred, or disgust, only sorrow.

****

“I’m sorry,” Loki murmurs to Thor’s retreating back.

He is back in the familiar glass cage, just like always when he chooses this course of action. By now, he’s almost become fond of it. It is, after all, infinitely more pleasant than his real one. Also, this one at least provides him company.

The apology, however, is new. It even takes him by surprise. But it’s not a lie. Not that it matters. Even if Thor believes him, none of this will matter once everything starts again.

Thor takes three steps before coming to a halt. He’s certainly learning, Loki thinks, wistfully. Not so long ago, he wouldn’t make it past one.

“What for?”

It is obvious that Thor’s in no mood for this. He has a world to save, and, from where he stands, Loki is on the wrong side. And yet, he’s still here.

_Everything. Some things you don’t even remember._

It is what Loki should – wants – to say. So it is only natural that he doesn’t.

“I’m feeling generous today, Thor,” he says instead, his lips curving into a wide grin. “So I’m giving you a choice. What would you like me to apologize for?”

Thor sighs, shaking his head slightly, his lips forming a small, dejected smile. “There is so much to choose from, Loki, and I have no time to spare.”

Loki almost bursts into hysterical laughter at that since time is all he has, but the smile freezes on his lips when the expression on Thor’s face changes suddenly. He doesn’t even see Thor move, and it takes all his willpower not to retreat when Thor’s fist comes in contact with the glass of his prison.

“No.” Thor barks out, sounding fierce and angry and just plain hurt. “There is one apology I want from you. You _owe_ it to me. I want you to apologize for robbing me of my brother. Can you do that for me, Liesmith?”

Loki doesn’t, and it’s only a few hours later that everything goes back to the start.

It’s death one hundred and ten.

****

Maybe none of this is real.

He’s certainly made powerful enemies along the way, powerful enough to create this particular form of a living nightmare.

Nightmare, punishment, or a bizarre accident, it doesn’t matter. He is trapped in the middle of it, and it seems like there is no way out.

It’s death one hundred and twenty one, and Loki has had enough.

****

“What are you _doing_?”

In the greater scheme of things, this time Loki is doing absolutely nothing. At the present time, though, he is feeding pigeons.

“Plotting world domination, Thor,” Loki responds, but his tone is completely void of the usual bite. He simply has no energy to spare. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You’re… _feeding birds_ ,” is what Thor says. You’ve gone mad, is what he means. And maybe he has, maybe he’s been mad for a long time, only realizing it now.

In another lifetime, the look on Thor’s face – uncertainty mixed with dismay – would be a source of infinite amusement for Loki, now it doesn’t even merit a grin.

“They are hungry, and I have nothing better to do,” Loki says evenly, throwing another fistful of seeds at the feathered beasts. “It is quite relaxing.”

Thor frowns, uncertainty on his face giving way to anger, his fingers tightening on the Mjölnir’s handle. “What new form of madness is this, Loki? You lead yet…”

“I have nothing to do with the Chitauri,” Loki stops him with a sigh. It is mostly the truth. “This time.” He adds as an afterthought.

“Even if it were the truth, you know I cannot leave without you. You are a wanted criminal in this realm.”

“Are you’re here alone?” Loki asks after a moment of silence. “I’m not in the mood for dodging exploding arrows or what passes as wit in Stark’s mind.”

“Yes,” Thor admits without missing a beat. Loki wouldn’t, of course. Revealing a lack of allies in front of an enemy is a serious strategic mistake. He would certainly lie about it, but he isn’t Thor.

“I’m not moving from this place. I have three more bags of seed, and this park is full of hungry pigeons.” Loki says flatly. Thor’s eyes narrow in warning, but he makes no move to attack. “You have three options, Thor. You can leave, use that precious hammer of yours to beat me to death. Or… or you can stay and join me. The choice is entirely yours.”

“ _Loki_ …”

It is amazing how Thor can manage to make the simple sound of his name come out as both a deadly warning and a heartfelt plea. And it _breaks_ something inside Loki’s chest.

“I’m _tired_ , Thor,” Loki says, resigned. Defeated. And he is. Tired of seeing Thor’s blood everywhere he looks, tired of trying just to fail and fail again. He is simply tired of everything. There is a giant black hole inside his chest that is sucking the very life of him, and he doesn’t even care anymore. “I need rest. Even villains deserve a few hours of it. Can you do it, Thor? Can you give me few hours?”

Loki isn’t sure what he expects Thor to do. He has few ideas, but Thor taking a seat next to him, wordlessly grabbing a fistful of seeds out of the bag in Loki’s hand, is not one of them.

Death one hundred and twenty two comes later in the day, but not before Loki has had his few hours.

****

Laughing is somewhat difficult when you’re dying, but Loki gives it his best shot. It comes out sounding more like a rasping cough, but he’ll take what he can get. It’s probably his last laugh, and, everything considered, it is a good way to die. If it was in his nature, he’d say that he almost feels content.

He’d finally done it. Thor is alive, Chitauri – and he – gone. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll at last find the peace he desperately needs after so long. Giving up his life in exchange seems like a good bargain.

Thor doesn’t think so.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, and his senses are slowly shutting down, Thor’s tears-streaked face turning into a blur above his head. Thor is saying something – cursing him or demanding of him to stay alive, or both – but it’s difficult to concentrate on the words when his entire body feels like one giant wound.

It’s Thor’s half-chocked sob of “ _Why_ , Loki?” that finally penetrates the haze of pain wrapped around his senses.

Why, indeed?

“It’s because I’m Loki,” he whispers, the answer so simple it almost makes him cry. “And I’m your _brother_.”


	9. Chapter 9

The dream is always the same.

He is running down an endless corridor, his heart thumping wildly against his chest, blood rushing in his ears, breath coming out in rapid gasps. He doesn’t know where he is, but he knows he is late, and the one he is chasing after will be forever out of his reach if he doesn’t run faster. He can see only the shadow of the person he is chasing, doesn’t even know is it male or female, but he knows he will regret it forever if he doesn’t reach them. So he tries to move faster, but the more he tries, the slower he is, the shadow becoming smaller and smaller. He opens his mouth, wanting to yell after them, finally realizing who it is he is chasing after, panic gripping his heart in its icy fingers, and then…

Thor wakes up.

He wakes always in that precise moment, his mouth still shaping the name his conscious mind doesn’t remember. He wakes up panting, his heart echoing the wild rhythm from his dream, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. And he aches, his chest brimming with yearning he doesn’t know how to name. Because in those few moment between sleep and waking, Thor knows he will never be fast enough.

******

When he tells Loki about his recurring dream, his brother barely looks up from the book he is reading.

“It is Mjölnir,” Loki states, his tone even.

Thor frowns. “I am dreaming about a person, not a hammer. Also,” he adds in a smug tone. “Why would I chase after something I already possess?”

Loki looks up, taking a long, calculated look of Thor. “Perhaps, in your dreams you know you aren’t worthy of her.”

Thor’s eyes widen, as a passing thought occurs to him. What if Loki is right, what if… But then the mask on Loki’s face slips, and he bursts into laughter.

“You should have seen your face, brother,” Loki says, barely holding off another fit of laughter. “Not even all the riches in Asgard would be enough to make up for it.”

Narrowing his eyes, Thor grabs the apple from the bowl of fruit on Loki’s desk, and throws it at his brother who merely flicks his hand, making the apple disappear in the shower of green sparks, a wide smile lighting up his face.

And Thor cannot help himself, he smiles back.

******

“No,” Loki says, resolutely.

“It will be only this one time,” Thor tries, smiling earnestly, the smile that seems to work on everyone. Except Loki. His brother always gets that annoyed look when Thor tries it with him. “Unless your magic is not up to the task, brother.”

Loki narrows his eyes. “Don’t try to act smarter than you are, Thor, you might strain something vital.”

Thor merely shrugs his shoulders, flopping on the seat next to Loki. “I am merely giving you the opportunity to practice the spell you were bragging about for the past two months.”

Loki blinks, startled, a look of wonder making his face strangely vulnerable. “You were listening? “ He asks, sounding somehow both suspicious and hopeful. “You looked like you were barely awake most of the time I spoke to you about it.”

Thor smiles, and, following an impulse that might ruin his chances of getting Loki’s help, he ruffles his brother’s perfectly slicked hair. “I admit that sometimes I can barely understand what you are talking about, Loki, but I always listen to what you have to say. _Always_.”

Loki stays silent one long moment, merely looking at Thor’s face as if assessing the truthfulness of his words. In the end, he sighs, resigned. “Very well, but only because I do need the practice.”

Thor smiles at his brother’s capitulation, already making plans to set the meeting with the lovely Frida, when Loki’s face grows serious, almost wistful. “What do you see in her?” Loki asks, and there is no mocking in his tone. Only sincere curiosity.

Thor opens his mouth to reply, but finds himself at the loss for an answer. She is beautiful, but so are many of the other Frigga’s handmaidens, so that is not it. Nor does she makes him burn with passion for her, quite the opposite, in fact. Then it occurs to him, she makes him feel at ease when in her company, not the mighty Asgardian warrior or its prince, but simply Thor.

“I enjoy her company,” Thor says simply, and Loki blinks once, twice, and that rare look of confusion is enough to make Thor risk the fate of his fingers when he ruffles his brother’s hair once again. “Almost as much I enjoy yours, brother.”

******

“Why don’t you spin tales as you used to, Loki?” It’s not what he’s been meaning to ask, but now, with the words out there, Thor suddenly finds himself in need of an answer.

Loki throws him a venomous look. “Don’t you have someone else to entertain you?”

Thor merely sighs. “Her stories are beautiful and engaging, but they pale in comparison to yours. Why have you stopped? I am sure I am not the only one who misses your tales.”

Loki’s lips curve upward, forming a bitter smile. “And you are mistaken, Thor, the good people of Asgard have not granted me the moniker Silvertongue with benevolence in mind.”

Thor frowns, his good mood almost gone. Loki’s been moody lately, even more than usual, his famed tongue sharp as razor and twice as dangerous.

“Well, I miss them,” Thor insists, and if he sounds like a petulant child so be it. He does miss Loki’s stories, but even more so he misses the look of fire in Loki’s eyes as he created new worlds with only his words. He looked much happier then than he does now. “Will you tell me one, brother? A short one, perhaps. About a handsome prince and his valorous deeds?”

Loki’s face stays serious, almost grave. “We are not children anymore, Thor, you have no need for my tales.”

“I will always need your words, brother,” Thor says, a small smile stretching his lips. “Whether to make me laugh, or call me a fool. To offer counsel, or grant me with an imaginary world.”

When Loki doesn’t say a thing, Thor’s face falls, something heavy and cold gathering in the pit of his stomach, only to disappear completely as Loki smiles softly, and the words, “Once upon a time,” slip past his lips.

******

“You know who would look beautiful if he were a woman?” Fandral says, lips wide in half-drunken smile. Thor feels his own responding in similar fashion, his eyes scanning the hall in search of Fandral’s potential candidate, smile freezing on his lips when Fandral offers the name. “Loki.”

Thor’s eyes narrow in warning. “Be careful, Fandral, that is my brother you are talking about in such disrespectful manner,” Thor says in a low voice, deadly serious, the warm, groggy feel of near-drunkenness evaporating instantly.

Fandral raises his hands in surrender. “I mean no offense, Thor, I also think you would make a lovely woman with those blue eyes of yours. Volstagg, on the other hand.” 

The man in question bursts into laughter, Fandral, and even Hogun, joining him, breaking the tense atmosphere. Thor only manages a small smile, reaching after his cup, Fandral’s words buzzing inside his mind as his eyes land on the object of his thoughts.

Loki is smiling, completely engrossed in conversation with the emissary from Vanaheim, and even though Thor cannot see Loki’s eyes from this distance, he can clearly imagine the green of it sparking with fire as he talks about something that Loki deems is worthy of his interest.

 _Beautiful._

Breath hitching in his throat, Thor puts down his cup on the table with more force than necessary, standing up abruptly.

“Are you off to visit the beautiful Dagny?” Fandral asks, a leering smile on his face.

“No,” Thor forces out through clenched teeth, stalking out of the hall as if the armies of Helheim are on his trail.

******

It feels as if he is once again caught in his dream, only this time he is awake, and the horror of knowing who it is he is chasing after, is making his chest feel as if it is going to break.

Loki.

All this time, the answer has been staring him in the face, so near, and yet it could not be further out of his reach. Forbidden.

And how is Thor going to be able to even look at his brother’s face anymore, with the weight of his discovery? How is he going to be able to touch his hair, his face, to hold him close, when his body burns with the desire that is nowhere near brotherly?

Thor doesn’t know how long he had been standing alone in the dark of the palace gardens, battling with himself, but when he finally re-enters the palace hall, his eyes immediately seek his brother. And find his seat empty. As well as that of the emissary from Vanaheim.

And Thor’s world shatters.

******

When he bursts into Loki’s room, he finds his brother dressed in his casual clothing, standing by the window. Alone. The relief he feels at that makes him want to weep from happiness.

Loki frowns at Thor’s entrance. “Why are you here? Why are you running? Has something happened?”

Loki keeps looking at him with expectant eyes, worry and suspicion clear in his green eyes, and all Thor can say is, “I’m a fool, you were always right, I really am a fool.”

Loki’s frown deepens. “Are you drunk?” He asks, his tone a promise of future pain and suffering if Thor answers positively.

Thor laughs, happy and free, even if there is a note of hysteria in it. “I was, I’m not anymore.”

Loki stays silent, his face betraying nothing as his gaze stays fixed on Thor’s eyes, as if he is trying to look into his very soul. “Why _are_ you here, Thor?” He asks, softly, and Thor’s heart skips a beat.

“It is you,” Thor says simply, without missing a beat. Is he going to exit this room damned or happier than he’s ever been, it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s been chasing a shadow for far too long. He is finally ready to face the one whom it belongs. Even if it is his own brother. “In my dream. It has always been you.”

“Oh,” is all Loki says, in a voice that is barely a whisper. “Oh.”

“Now what?” Thor asks, impatience winning over the dread he feels, when it becomes clear that Loki has no intention of reacting in any other way than look at Thor as if he is seeing him for the first time.

“I don’t know, Thor,” Loki says finally, a small smile playing on his lips. “It is your dream. What happens when you catch me?”

“I have never caught you in my dream,” Thor manages to say, his chest feeling as if it about to explode.

“Well, then we will have to improvise,” Loki says, holding out his hand.

And, with a smile on his face, Thor takes it.


	10. Chapter 10

Loki starts playing both sides out of boredom. Just to see how long he will be able to walk the thin line between disaster and amusement. And no matter how long this game actually lasts, it has already been worth it. If for nothing else than the immense pleasure of being witness to Thor’s barely held disdain each time they meet in secret, so Loki could pass on the information to Fury.

But when he starts playing this game, demanding only one thing from Fury, for Thor to be his contact, Loki has no idea that it will change everything between him and his not-brother.

And that it would be _Thor_ who makes it happen.

******

Words are his most favored weapon, but Thor has been annoyingly difficult to rile lately. Oh, he has not bothered in the slightest to hide how distasteful and honorless he thinks Loki’s recent actions are, nor how little trust he places in Loki’s words and seeming change of heart, but he has endured each and every provocation from Loki with a tight press of his lips and a stone-cold expression on his face.

So when it happens, Loki is too surprised by the sudden white-hot fury in Thor’s eyes at a casual insult Loki throws at him to react in any way. His mind recovers quickly, but it comes a few seconds too late, so he doesn’t move out of the way as Thor lunges after him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him hard against the concrete. Something cracks at the impact, his skull or the concrete, Loki cannot tell, his vision swimming from the force of the blow.

When his vision clears, he finds himself trapped between the wall and Thor’s body pressing against his own, Thor’s fingers still wrapped tightly around Loki’s throat, not tight enough to make him struggle for breath, but tight enough to make the threat obvious. But Thor’s eyes are what makes Loki’s heart start to beat erratically – twin blue flames of pure, unadulterated fury.

Something dark uncoils in Loki’s chest, pooling in the pit of his stomach, at the sight of how feral and dangerous Thor looks right now, his eyes murderous, and his lips drawn in a snarl. All that strength coiled tightly under the golden skin, all that power, and all of it so close, Loki can smell Thor’s scent, feel the warmth radiating off his body. A shiver runs through his body, his breath hitching in his throat as a spark of _something_ lights the almost nonexistent space between their bodies, and Thor’s body answers with a shiver of its own.

The look in Thor’s eyes darkens, his pupils growing huge, and, with a growl that sounds strangely similar to Loki’s name, Thor crushes their lips together. The meeting of their lips is hard and bruising, resembling more a clash of teeth and tongue than a kiss. Loki draws back first, his breath coming out in short gasps, mingling with the warmth of Thor’s breath on his face.

Loki has never thought of _this_ , never even imagining a possibility of Thor lusting after _him_ , but now, with the evidence of Thor’s arousal hard against his hip, Thor’s trembling fingers still holding Loki by the throat, Loki has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from howling in delight. Such a perfect weapon, and Thor is the one to hand it over to Loki. With a wicked smirk, Loki wraps his fingers around the wrist of Thor’s other hand, and, holding Thor’s gaze with his own, he tugs his hand up. Thor goes with it, his eyes never leaving Loki’s, not even when Loki takes Thor’s index finger in his mouth, tasting the salt of Thor’s skin, and something that is wholly, undeniably Thor. Thor shudders, a moan slipping past his lips, and Loki doesn’t even try to stop himself from smiling triumph.

What comes next is a blur of frantic movements as they rid themselves of their clothing. They end up fucking right there, against the wall, Loki’s legs wrapped around Thor’s waist, Thor taking him hard and fast, Loki’s breath hitching on every powerful thrust of Thor’s hips. And when he comes, it is to the taste of blood on his lips, and the sound of a broken moan shaped as his name.

Afterwards, Loki takes his time dressing, curiously inspecting the various bruises and bite marks on his skin, his fingers brushing lightly against the dark marks on his hips, shaped as a perfect replica of Thor’s fingers. When he looks up, he catches Thor’s gaze. His not-brother is still completely naked, but Loki wants to sate a different hunger now, the one that feeds off the look of self-disgust and misery in Thor’s eyes. But even that does not stop Thor’s eyes from wandering slowly, _hungrily_ , across Loki’s still half clothed body.

Frowning at a tear in his shirt, Loki flicks his wrist, his armor molding itself around his body. With one last glance at Thor, Loki feels a twinge of wild excitement at the sight of Thor’s hardening cock.

“I look forward to our next meeting. _Brother_.” Loki adds the last word softly, the pained grimace on Thor’s face the last thing he sees before he teleports out.

******

They continue to fuck.

They meet in the same abandoned house, and after a short exchange of information, they start to claw at each other’s clothes, seeking skin underneath. Their couplings are hard and intense, leaving bruises and deep scratches in their skin, and an ache that only the next time can sate.

For Loki, it is glorious.

To drink the gasps and moans from Thor’s lips as he thrusts into Loki, the look in his blue eyes a heady mixture of anger, desire and misery that feels almost as good as the fingers leaving bruises of ownership all across Loki’s body.

A better, more satisfying path to ruin Loki could not have envisioned himself for his honorable, shining not-brother. And Thor had made the first step of his own volition.

Loki is too caught up in the dark thrill of dismantling Thor into tiny, jagged pieces, so he doesn’t notice the way their encounters slowly start to change. The touches turn gentle, intending to caress not to bruise, the kisses longer and softer, and when Thor fucks him, it is with slow, languid strokes that make Loki whimper and writhe under Thor, until finally, finally, when Loki thinks he will shatter if Thor keeps the slow, steady rhythm of his thrusts, he wraps his hand around Loki’s weeping cock, and entwines the fingers of his other hand with Loki’s, his thrusts picking up speed. When Loki comes this time it is to the taste of Thor’s lips on his own, and the sound of his own frantic heartbeat.

Afterwards, he lies next to Thor, breathing deeply and staring at a ceiling, feeling lost and foolish. Caught in a trap of his own making. Swallowing against the dryness of his throat, carefully avoiding to look at Thor, Loki sits up, but he is stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

“Stay with me,” Thor says in a low voice, and Loki, the fool that he is, turns and looks at him.

There is no disgust, or misery anymore in Thor’s eyes. Uncertainty and nervousness, yes, maybe even a small amount of fear, but mostly? Love. Loki’s first instinct is to run, so he wrenches his hand free of Thor’s grasp, and Thor allows it, the light dimming in his eyes, as hope turns to sorrow. His second instinct is far more dangerous, raising the stakes of this game to a whole new level.

Sighing, Loki chuckles darkly. “I will never win against you, will I, Thor?”

Thor blinks, a small, carefully hopeful smile curving his lips. “Will it satisfy you if we call this a draw?”

Loki shuts his eyes, considering the implications of his next words, but he already knows the answer.

 _Yes_.


	11. Chapter 11

Thor blinks, then laughs out loud. “You will not trick me into another duel of words, brother,” Thor says, a smug smile lifting the corners of his lips. “We both know I am no match for your silver tongue.”

Loki stays silent, the smile fading from Thor’s lips as the usual calmness of his younger brother’s face flickers briefly, revealing an expression of immense sorrow. It is gone in an instant, but the echo of it lingers in the shadows Thor can suddenly see in Loki’s usually clear eyes, and the tense line of his shoulders. “I have made no such attempt, Thor,” he says, even his voice a mere echo of his usual sharp wit. “As you said, it would serve no purpose.”

“Other than make me look foolish?” Thor asks, smiling faintly, as something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach. A ghostly echo of Loki’s unusual melancholy. And his even stranger words. Words that make no sense, no matter how hard Thor tries to give them some semblance of reason. “That has been enough of an incentive so far for you, Loki.”

The corner of Loki’s lips twitches upwards, his eyes sparking with humor. “I can always accomplish such an easy feat, Thor, and besides, there is no one here to watch you embarrass yourself.”

Thor laughs, that strange weight disappearing from his stomach, as if it never existed.

****

Life is a glorious thing. And the only way to live it fully is to take everything it can offer. Thor does so, but, as he blazes through life, he fails to notice that his brother, his beloved younger brother, who holds Thor’s heart firmly in his, sometimes, cruel hands, starts to linger behind, the smiles becoming sharper, jests crueler, eyes flashing not in mischief, but malice.

But when he does stop to look, Loki is always at his side, and Thor has no reason to doubt the love he sees in his brother’s eyes.

****

Life can also strike you down, and Thor learns that fact on his knees, covered in mud, and soaked to the bone. But once you touch the bottom, there is no way but up, and that is also something Thor learns. And does it with the help of a trio of kind strangers, who show him sympathy and compassion simply because they can. 

But his humility comes with a price, and if it had been his choice, Thor would rather for it to be his life, than losing his brother.

But the choice is not his, and all he can do is stare helplessly as Loki’s hand slowly uncurls from Gungnir, and he falls down into an abyss, forever out of Thor’s reach.

****

Days after Loki’s death, Thor comes to the edge of the shattered bridge. He stands next to its very edge, and, as he stares at the vast expanse of the universe, now so much bigger and colder, he recalls a day from long ago. And a strange question Loki had asked him. And his even stranger answer.

_“Do you know which words hurt the most, Thor?”_

_“Lies, of course.”_

_“Not even close, brother, truth hurts far more, but words that remain unsaid hurt the most.”_

He had laughed then, but now Thor understands the truth of those words. Now, when it is too late.


	12. Chapter 12

The jagged edge of the icy dagger is cold and dangerously sharp against the skin of his neck, but the shiver that runs through his body is not born out of fear.

“Are you _cold_ , brother?” Loki asks, his breath a warm caress against the side of Thor’s face. An exhilarating counterpart to the cold that emanates from the rest of Loki’s body crowding Thor against the wall. 

Loki’s voice is honey sweet, but there is a dagger hidden inside his soft tone, sharper and more dangerous than the one he holds Thor captive with. It has been a long time since Thor has seen Loki this close to falling prey to the fury and hurt Thor knows are still simmering in the depths of his brother’s heart. No matter how hard Thor tries, he knows, deep down, that his love will never be enough to chase Loki’s demons completely away. But Thor is determined to make it enough to keep them locked away where they cannot hurt anyone. Especially Loki.

“What is the cause of this, Loki?” Thor asks, his voice coming out calm and collected, but he cannot suppress another shiver when Loki’s head whips around suddenly, and he finds himself staring into a pair of crimson eyes burning with fury and pain. “Have we not moved past anger and violence?”

“Has it not been long overdue, Odinson?” Loki hisses, pressing the dagger tighter against Thor’s throat. “To see me like this? To see the Jotunn monster that warms your bed each night?”

And, for a fraction of a moment, Thor simply looks. This is the first time he’s seen Loki in his Jotunn form, and Thor cannot deny a degree of shock at seeing the blue tint of his usually pale skin and the deep, rich red of his eyes, but it is still his brother. It is still Loki he sees – willful and indomitable, the fierce expression on his face making him seem dangerous. And utterly beautiful. Thor’s body shivers again, and Thor feels ashamed at his body’s reaction to Loki’s closeness, now when Loki is clearly suffering and in need of aid, but he cannot help himself. Loki’s name is carved across his heart, but his blood burns with it, his body craving Loki’s touch.

Ignoring the reactions of his unruly body, Thor focuses instead on the pain he can see in the depths of crimson eyes directed at him. “You are not a monster,” he states firmly, taking a hold of Loki’s face with his hands. The feel of cold skin underneath feels is a bit strange but not uncomfortable. “You are Loki, my brother, my lover, my counselor, and if you demand my blood to see the truth of my words, then take it. It is yours, as I am.”

Loki’s eyes widen in horror when Thor moves forward, a thin red line appearing on his throat where the ice cuts through his skin. Thor ignores the sting of pain, holding Loki’s gaze firmly with his own, as he continues to press forward, the trickle of blood turning into a steady flow as the cut grows deeper. “I care not about ill words of ignorant people. You care even less, brother. Are you honestly going to allow the words of someone you called a pompous, half brained imbecile affect you so?”

Loki takes a stumbling step back, the ice disappearing from his hand as his Aesir visage melts back over his features.

“You are mad,” Loki breathes out, his eyes fixed on the gash on Thor’s neck with a guilty and pained expression.

Thor only smiles. “I would have to be slightly mad for loving you, Loki,” Thor says, spreading his arms in invitation. His entire being aches to cross the space that separates him from Loki, and wrap his arms around him, but this has to be Loki’s choice. “You certainly go out of your way to drive me to madness.”

With a chocked sob, Loki steps into Thor’s embrace, burying his face against the crook of Thor’s neck. “I am sorry,” he whispers against Thor’s skin, and Thor’s eyes squeeze shut at the feel of Loki’s lips against the cut on his neck. He feels a flare of power – reminiscent of tiny sparks of lightning – against his wound, and then he feels nothing. Not even a slight burn.

When Loki pulls back so he could look Thor in the eyes, his lips are stained red with Thor’s blood. Transfixed, Thor brushes Loki’s lower lip with his thumb, smearing it with his own blood. “I would gladly give my life for you.” He says softly, but he means his words to be a vow.

Loki’s eyes flash darkly, his fingers digging painfully in the flesh of Thor’s shoulders. “I will murder you if you try.”

Thor laughs at that. The weight in his chest lessens at the sight of Loki’s eyes clear of the torment that was there only moments ago. Placing a tender kiss on Loki’s forehead, he whispers. “You hold my heart, Loki. And I care not if your hands are Jotunn blue or Aesir pale.”

Loki remains silent, but the last trace of tension leaves his body as he relaxes against Thor, and they simply stay like that. Embracing silently, letting their hands speak the language they know best.


	13. Chapter 13

“Are you _insane_?”

The sentiment, if not exact phrasing, hits Thor with a strong sense of déjà vu. Of roads winding and diverging only to intersect again, forever leading his steps to the same destination – Loki.

The last time he had seen him, the entire world was tinted red. By his anger and the sting of Loki’s latest betrayal. By the knowledge he had been made a fool once again. By the slow bleeding wound of losing his brother once again.

“I can understand your sentiment, but I am aware of possible dangers of my actions.”

Stark does not even try to hide the disgust and enmity from his voice. Or his face. “And you’re willing to take that risk? Just because you’re still hung up on the idea of that lunatic being your brother?”

A flash of fury rises from the pit of his stomach, but before he has a chance to reply, Natasha does it for him.

“We are not here to discuss the finer points of hypocrisy, Stark.” Stark’s jaw clenches as he crosses his arms over his chest, but he stays silent. “Also, last time I checked we were on the same side.”

Thor gives her a small nod of gratitude, but receives only a blank look in return. Of course. She will make her opinion known, but she will do so after she has all the facts. That, Thor can appreciate.

“Why do you even think it’s Loki?” She asks, fixing him with an inquiring gaze.

A small, bitter smile curves his lips as he lowers his gaze. How to explain a thousand years’ worth of memories to those with such short lives? How to tell them he knows his brother’s fighting style as much as he knows his own? But it is not even the matter of familiarity as much as Thor feels it, deep inside his very soul. It is Loki. And he wants Thor to meet him. He is all but daring him to do so. And Thor… well, no matter how different he is now from the arrogant boy who he had been once, he still cannot refuse a challenge. Especially if it is Loki who issued it.

“I know it is Loki.” Thor says firmly.

“Oh, great, now you’re clairvoyant.” Stark sneers, rolling his eyes. “So why don’t you use that newfound gift to see that if it’s indeed him, then you’re walking straight into a fucking trap?”

“Stark. Shut up.” Rogers this time, speaking for the first time since Thor made his announcement. This unfortunate meeting would pass more smoothly if he gained his support, but Thor holds no great hope for it. “Thor, him being a jerk aside, you know Tony is right.”

“What I do know is that Loki is here. On a realm that should be closed off to everyone.” Thor says evenly, holding Rogers’ gaze firmly. He understands the man’s fears and the responsibility he feels for their small, raggedy group of lost souls. Thor included. But there are centuries of memories and more than enough of bad blood and unanswered questions between him and Loki which hold prior claim as far as Thor is concerned. “We could benefit from the knowledge of how he had made it possible.”

Stark snorts, and Thor feels his fingers twitch nervously. There is only so much of blatant disrespect he is willing to suffer from anyone. And Stark is nearing the line where his patience ends.

“Jesus, I can’t be the only sane one here.” Stark huffs out exasperatedly. “He’s working with them again. Why else would he even be here?”

That is a valid point. Loki would never deliberately put himself into a vulnerable position. And coming to a realm under siege from the very same enemy he had been leading the first time and not work with them would be more than insane, it would be close to suicidal.

And yet…

“That is precisely why I am going to meet with him.” Thor says, but he keeps his gaze trained on Rogers, not Stark. “Loki is mine. To deal with.” He adds the second part purely for the benefit of others. Even if the first is what truly matters. Loki is _his_. Brother, burden, enemy. The missing part of his very heart. The first that had been torn from it, and still the largest. Despite all the losses that have piled up recently.

“Thor, I understand you want to believe Loki is not working with the Chitauri.” Rogers’ word are soft and there is a flash of understanding in his eyes. “But you cannot save everyone, no matter how close they are to you. Not if they don’t want to be saved.”

Of course, Rogers’ friend. The lost one. The one Rogers could not save.

“For fuck’s sake.” Stark exclaims angrily. “This is not a damn soap opera and Loki is not Bucky, and why are we even having this discussion?”

Thor takes a deep breath and rises to his feet, squaring Stark with a hard look. “This is not a discussion.” He says, a note of finality in his voice. “I am merely extending you the courtesy of informing you of my decision.”

The silence that ensues after Thor’s announcement is stifling and tense, but Thor could hardly care less. He would give his life willingly for each person in this room, but he will not yield in this. Even if it leads him to his demise.

Stark is the one to break the silence, predictably. He takes a long, pointed look of everyone in the room, but no one returns it. “So that’s it? You’re all just going to get along with it?” He waits a moment, then, after no one responds, he stalks over to Thor. He looks up into Thor’s face challengingly. “Well then, just go ahead and get yourself captured if that’s what you want, but be a pal and don’t rat us all out, would you?”

With that, he stalks out of the room, slamming the door after himself.

No one says a word for a long time, but Thor can clearly see the same worry on Natasha’s and Steve’s faces, the one Stark voiced a mere moment ago. For some reason, there is a completely blank expression on Clint’s face.

“You must know that I would never endanger you.” Thor says, softer, wordlessly pleading with them. They are all he has left now, with Asgard closed to him. Only semblance of family. “I would rather die.”

“Yeah, you would.” Clint says finally, his lips curved into a dark grin, but there is something in his eyes which makes Thor’s chest tighten uncomfortably – understanding. “But Loki comes first, right? Even if he’s only going to stab you in the back.”

And that, Thor finds himself unable to answer. But, considering the almost identical looks of pity in three pair of eyes trained on his face, he does not have to.

******

The note left on one of the Chitauri bodies leads him to one of the numerous abandoned houses. The inside of it is a mess of scattered belongings, left haphazardly lying around. The air is stale and reeking of animal excrement, and when Thor enters what once had been a living room, his hair gets tangled in one of the numerous spider webs.

The sight of the house’s interior is a fitting metaphor for this dying realm – abandoned and filthy, left to vermin and decay, as it waits for the one that has yet to come, and finally put an end to all existence.

Caught up in his own grim thoughts, Thor misses the way a silhouette peels itself off the wall, a tall figure emerging from the shadows on the far side of the room.

“Hello, brother.”

Thor’s head snaps up, his hand immediately flying toward Mjölnir’s handle. The breath catches in his throat, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of the familiar green leather, a growl of frustration tethering on the corner of his lips as he tries and fails to make out the lines of Loki’s face, still half-obscured in the shadows. 

“I see you are learning.” Loki sounds amused, but Thor has become infinitely more adept at discerning finer nuances of his brother’s voice. There is a note of weariness in it, and, surprisingly, relief. “Once upon a time you would be foolish enough to hug me.”

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitches. “I have no great desire to receive a dagger to the back.”

A soft chuckle. “And yet you are here.”

“How could I have refused you invitation?” Thor snorts, his fingers moving away from Mjölnir, his hand falling by his side. He recalls Chitauri bodies, aligned neatly for him to find, all with the same horizontal slash across their throats. “When you went through such trouble to issue one.”

A moment passes in silence, and Thor curses inwardly the lack of light in the room. This resembles talking to a shadow or a ghost, and during certain periods of Thor’s life, Loki had been both. An ache springs to life in his chest, a need to see Loki’s face, to make sure this is truly him standing only a few feet away.

“I had certain doubts you would come.” Loki says finally. “Our last meeting had been… less than friendly.”

Thor’s eyes widen at Loki’s audacity. Less than friendly? They were trying to kill one another at the time. “You were wearing Father’s face and usurping the throne of Asgard while leaving me to mourn your death for the second time. What did you expect? A hug?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Thor blinks, taken aback, but then he feels a first spark of anger flicking to existence deep inside his chest, and he merely growls in response, taking a step forward.

Loki lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender, but stands his ground, a dark, tired chuckle drifting over from the shadows. “I will take that as a no, then.”

Whatever flicker of a doubt still remained about Loki working with the Chitauri disappears, but Loki’s motives are convoluted, maze-like creations, and Thor is in no mood to play Loki’s games as he tries to unravel his current scheme.

“Why are you here, Loki?”

Another chuckle, a dry, jarring sound that sends a shiver of unease down Thor’s spine. “No small talk then? Inquiries about my health and whereabouts?”

Thor takes a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists. “I have no patience for your games and lies, Loki. Not anymore.” He adds, and his voice sounds as tired and empty as he is feeling. He imagines he sees Loki wincing at that, but it could very well be a mere trick of light and shadows. It probably is. “What is it that you want of me?”

“I am here to help, actually.”

Thor laughs. He cannot help himself. “That lie is hardly worth the famed Silvertongue.” Thor sneers, each word dripping bitter accusation and resentment as it leaves his lips. “Do not mock me, Loki. I am hardly the fool you consider me to be.”

Loki snorts, but when he speaks he sounds almost defeated. “I have lied to you a countless times and you swallowed all my lies. And now, when I speak the truth, you accuse me of lying. It would be amusing were it not wretchedly inconvenient.”

“You truly wish me to believe you have come here to seek redemption?”

“I said nothing about redemption, Thor. Pay attention.” Loki says, a trace of annoyance making its way into his voice. “I said I am here to offer you help against Chitauri and their master.”

Suddenly, everything clicks into place, like puzzle pieces rearranging themselves and fitting into their proper spot, revealing an ugly, but believable picture. “You fear him. The master you let down.”

“Only a fool would not.”

“Then why not run and hide, Loki?” Thor says, his lips twisting into a parody of a smile. “After all, that is what you are good at.” Even through the shadows, Thor can see how Loki holds himself very still, almost like a statue, cold and lifeless. But Thor is fresh out of mercy for his wayward brother. “Why risk everything coming here? Are you so desperate for my help?”

Thor expects an outburst of anger, or denial, but when Loki finally speaks, his voice is soft, and he seems almost impressed. “Well, well, well… is that malice I hear? I have always known you have it in you, Odinson.” Thor does not need to see Loki’s face to know that Loki’s lips are stretched into a sharp grin, his green eyes glinting with the very same emotion he is accusing Thor of, but he refuses to rise to Loki’s bait. “Although, given the state of this realm, you are in need of my help even more than I am in need of yours.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you are a fool. Blinded by his own arrogance.” Loki says, every word sharp as a knife, and cold as ice. “But I suppose it runs in the family. Like father, like son.”

Thor blinks, his heart racing as hope swells in his chest, and it takes him only three steps to stand in front of Loki, his fingers closing with almost feverish desperation over Loki’s elbows. Loki makes a half-hearted attempt at extracting himself, but Thor pays it no mind. He could go home. See his father and friends again, and if need be, lay his life down in Asgard’s defense. As it should be. “You have been to Asgard? Can you go back? Take me there?”

Loki stays silent and still in Thor’s hold, and Thor desperately searches the shadowed lines of Loki’s face, seeking affirmation but finds only…

“No.”

Thor tightens his hold on Loki, as if brute strength will change the deadly resolve of Loki’s barely whispered refusal. “If you do this for me, Loki, I will make sure you are granted full pardon.” Thor says – begs – not caring how weighted are his words. How selfish. He merely sees a chance to return home.

Loki sighs, his eyes fluttering closed. “I am not refusing you, Thor. I cannot take you to Asgard.”

Thor blinks, his newly born hope flickering and dying, filling his chest with a hollow ache and mouth with ash. But he refuses to give up. “You lie. You have found your way here, so why not the other way around?”

“Thor, listen…”

“Why must you be this way? Will nothing ever sate your hatred?” Thor exclaims, shaking Loki like a ragdoll, dull ache inside him turning slowly to fury.

“Will you stop and listen…” Loki tries again, now starting to fight with more conviction against Thor’s death grip. But Thor is deaf and blind to everything save the slowly dawning truth that he is trapped here, on this foreign realm, his last hope dying as a victim of Loki’s petty resentment and Odin’s past sins. A web of lies, deceit and hurt stretches around them, and even if Thor had no hand in its making, he remains forever trapped in it. A helpless, squirming fly, awaiting the spider’s bite.

“What will make you stop, Loki? What will be enough to fill that hole you carry instead of a heart?”

“There is no Asgard for me to take you to, you fool!” Loki exclaims. “Not anymore.” He adds in a softer voice.

Loki’s desperate cry finally reaches Thor, making him release his hold on Loki and take a staggering step back.

“No.” Thor whispers, but his voice sounds nothing like his own – too thin, too weak. Broken. Voice of a small child asking for a comfort from his parents, but finding none.

“I am sorry.” Loki says, his voice barely a whisper. He stands deathly still, the shadows dancing across his face are obscuring his eyes, making the paleness of his skin too bright, almost blinding.

Thor shuts his eyes, Loki’s softly spoken words echoing inside his mind, growing louder and louder, until something snaps inside Thor, and everything that has happened since his ill-fated sojourn to Jotunheim explodes behind his closed eyelids, and once he opens his eyes, it is only red he sees.

The first blow surprises him as much as it does Loki who makes no move to dodge or block it. The force of it sends him staggering backward until his back hits the door. Thor follows him blindly, his body moving almost as if in a dream, his mind bare of all thought save for the almost suffocating need to feel the satisfying crunch of bones under his knuckles. The second blow is stronger, fuels by al Thor’s pent up rage and hurt, and even if Loki tries to block this one, it is like trying to stop an avalanche with a tip of your finger.

The force of the second blow sends Loki crashing through the door and into the other room, but Thor is still not satisfied, even if he is fairly sure this one had broken something. He moves slowly, each step measured and filled with deadly intent until he find himself only a step away from Loki, who had dragged himself up onto his knees, his head hanging low. Thor rises his fist, ready to strike him again, but then Loki looks up, and the world halts suddenly.

This room is not submersed in darkness as the previous one, illuminated by the light coming from a nearby street lamp, and for the first time since his greeting Thor can see his brother’s face clearly.

There are dark circles underneath Loki’s eyes, making the green of them seem almost feverish, the usual paleness of Loki’s skin is even more prominent, looking almost translucent. Loki has ever been slim and lithe, but his face looks almost skeletal now, the tight stretch of skin over the bones. And then there is blood – flowing freely from Loki’s nose, staining his lips and teeth red.

There is nothing in Loki’s eyes now. No fear, no anger, no regret. Nothing. He silently holds Thor’s gaze, not trying to get up and away from Thor’s raised fist. He merely licks his bloodstained lips, and it is both fascinating and dreadful sight, and it triggers something in Thor’s mind, lost in the haze of bloodlust.

_There is no Asgard for me to take you to, you fool! Not anymore._

For two years Thor has been whispering Heimdall’s name, and each time his call want unanswered, Thor felt a part of him wither away, but he had never abandoned hope of returning home. Not really. And now, there is no hope, no home, no family. Nothing save the broken creature kneeling on the floor, looking at Thor with vacant eyes, as if expecting to finally meet his end.

Brother. Friend. Enemy. _Loki._

A choked sob tears itself from Thor’s lips, and he is moving before even realizing he had made that decision, his heart always faster than his mind. Loki winces instinctively, but allows Thor to haul him up and pull him into a bone crushing hug.

When they were growing up, it had always been Thor who initiated hugs and small affectionate touches. Loki always complained, called Thor a sentimental idiot, but never once had he tried to stop Thor. Even now, it comes so easy, so natural for Thor to wrap his hands around Loki’s waist and bury his head in the crook of Loki’s neck, inhaling Loki’s scent. It reminds him of happier days, of home and family. Of all things that are now lost to him.

Loki’s body is rigid against Thor’s, his arms spread stiffly, as if he has no idea as to what to do with them.

“You are sending mixed signals, Thor.” Loki says dryly, but for all the casualness of his words, he cannot hide the way his heart is racing, an almost wild, pounding rhythm so near to where Thor is resting his face. “Are you not too old for that particular game?”

“Shut up, Loki.” Thor whispers, his lips inadvertently tasting the salt and grime, and something that is uniquely Loki where they are pressed against the bared skin of Loki’s neck. His hold on Loki tightens, bordering on painful, but Thor knows Loki can take it. No matter how much frailer the body against his feels now. “For once in your life, just… shut up.”

Loki chuckles, and Thor feels the vibrations in his own chest, suddenly aware that the last time he had held Loki in his arms, Loki was bleeding out. He shuts his eyes, quenching the almost overwhelming need to bite down on the throbbing vein in Loki’s neck, to mix some of that lifeblood with his own, to force into existence Odin’s lie about them having the same blood flow through their veins.

“I missed you.” The words fall easily from his lips. The truth for so long buried deep inside his heart, under the memories of lies and betrayal. “ _Brother_.”

“ _Fool._ ” Loki snorts, and Thor can feel his hands moving, and it could just as easily be to push him away, or to put a dagger in his back, but all Thor does is tighten his grip even more, holding on to Loki as if he were his lifeline. “Fool.” Loki repeats, softer this time, as his spread palms finally settle on Thor’s back, just under his shoulder blades. Not pulling him near, but not pushing him away either.

And for Thor, it is enough.


	14. Chapter 14

Thor had almost drowned once. It had been long time ago, an act of a foolish and brash boy who had so much, and nearly threw it all away because he felt himself invulnerable. Immortal. He still remembers the burning in his lungs as he struggled for air, panic as the fear griped his heart, drowning his rational mind, and then… _nothing_. A strange sense of detachment from himself, like he is but a stranger observing someone else’s agony, but not feeling a thing.

Thor still cannot recall what has happened afterward, his next memory that of of his body rebelling against the water in his lungs and the wide-eyed anger and relief in the green eyes looking down at him, wet not only from lake water, the hands underneath his head trembling.

What he feels now is something very similar to what he had felt then, even if he is not drowning, but standing at the shattered edge of the Bifrost, looking down at the emptiness below, seeing…

_The madness is gone from his brother’s eyes, replaced by anguish and a tiny flicker of hope, but it is a fragile emotion, a flickering candlelight extinguished by Odin’s softly spoken ‘no’. Then there is nothing in them and his brother is falling, falling so fast and so far out of his reach, an anguished howl echoing inside Thor’s head…_

“Thor. Come, my son.” Odin’s voice is soft, almost as is the touch of his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

It is difficult to tear his gaze away from the abyss. Not that it helps. He can still see Loki falling, the image burned into his retina for all eternity. But not as much s it to turn and face his father and suddenly see an old men in the place of the wise and powerful king he is used to seeing.

“A moment, Father.” Thor says, his voice steady even if slightly coarse. Then, because he can see Odin opening his mouth to object, he adds. “ _Please._ ”

Odin closes his eyes, a deep, pained exhale his only response, but he does not object, merely turns and starts walking – slowly, oh so very slowly – in the opposite direction.

Thor forces his gaze away from his father’s retreating form, still feeling like he did that long lost summer day – his chest is burning as if his lungs are trying and failing to draw breath, but he feels nothing. And he should. He should feel so many things now, but his mind is empty save the ever-repeating loop of his brother’s fall into nothingness while his heart feels like a dead, empty thing.

Then he sees it, a small, abandoned thing, lying haphazardly on the ground, the Bifrost’s lights reflecting off its golden surface.

Thor starts walking toward it, his body guided by a will of its own, each slow step a battle, as Thor’s mind slowly starts to wake out of its haze and memories begin pouring through. The first time Loki wore it. The jokes. That one time Thor hid it… One after another, the images flood his mind, each another dagger aiming at his heart and when he finally reaches his goal, his knees buckle under him and he hits the ground.

It is an ugly helmet – gaudy and exaggerated and Thor had never liked it – but now it is all he has left of his brother. Thor reaches after it with trembling hands, the gold of the helmet blurring as his eyes fill with tears as his heart finally remembers how to feel again, and Thor wishes the numbness back, his heart writhing in pain as he clutches Loki’s helmet to his chest, a single thought echoing loudly inside his mind.

His brother is gone.


	15. Chapter 15

Loki is dying.

It is a truth Thor cannot deny nor fight no matter how loudly the beast of anguish inside his chest trashes and wails. Loki’s face is turning ashen in front of Thor’s helpless stare, his eyes wide with fear and pain, his body shuddering against Thor’s chest.

_His brother is dying._

There is so much bad blood, hurt and resentment between them, enough to fill even the wasteland that surrounds them, but, with each shuddering breath that leaves Loki’s mouth, Thor lets go of another slight, another betrayal, another wound, until there is nothing inside him but love for the dying man in his arms.

Another pained breath ghosts over Thor’s face, and Thor’s vision starts to blur as tears fill his eyes, but he refuses to look away from Loki’s face, or even to blink, so he does not miss the exact moment a sensation of peace enters Loki’s eyes, peace Thor has not seen in his brother’s eyes for what seems an eternity. Instinctively, Thor tightens his hold on Loki, as if that will make any difference, as his strength alone will be enough to snatch his brother out of death’s grip.

It is not.

***

“Thor. Thor, wake up. Thor, _Thor_!”

Thor jolts from his sleep, his breathing coming out in harsh pants, his body drenched in sweat, the memory of Loki’s ashen, still face burning brightly inside his mind’s eye. There is a sound – a howl of anguish – echoing inside his head even now, and, by the scratching ache inside his throat, Thor is fairly certain he had been the one to make it.

Slowly, Thor starts to come to his senses, his breathing calming as he takes in his surroundings. The room he is in is tidy, but modest, the large bed Thor is occupying is taking up most of the space, with only a small table and a cupboard completing the room’s interior.

An inn, his sluggish mind offers, an inn on Alfheim they have stumbled upon by chance, and Thor had been outvoted by everyone when he demanded they press on instead of resting for the night in beds as opposed to hard ground. Loki in particular had been most adamant… a breath hitches in Thor’s throat as images invade his senses – ashen pallor of his brother’s face, the dampness on Thor’s face and his hands, stillness of the body in his arms.

But Loki… Loki was _dead_.

“What has gotten into you? You have been making the most atrocious noise.”

Thor’s head whips to the side, following the source of the annoyed voice, his eyes widening and his heart stilling in his chest at the sight of his brother standing next to his bed, dressed in simple black breeches and a green tunic, scowling at Thor, his face looking unnaturally pale under the illumination coming from the flickering globe of green light, hovering next to Loki’s right shoulder.

Loki. Annoyed, and looking at Thor as if he is to be blame for everything that is wrong within the Nine Realms, his hair, usually carefully slicked back, now falling in loose strands down his face.

“Well?” Loki rises his eyebrows in question, the scowl on his face deepening. “Care to explain yourself?”

Thor blinks slowly, taking a deep, measured breath, his nerves still wrecked from his dream, the image of deathly still face of his brother still vivid, still feeling so horribly real to Thor, no matter the living, breathing, and petulant brother standing within arm’s reach.

“First, you take us on a- _oomph_.”

Any other time, Thor would appreciate the startled expression on Loki’s usually calm and controlled face and the truly undignified sound Loki makes as Thor, without any warning, reaches out, wrapping his hand around Loki’s wrist, and simply _tugs_. There is no actual plan to his actions, only an urge too strong to be denied, desire to have Loki close and make sure he is real and here and _alive_. 

Loki’s knees hit the bed, and Thor wastes no time in pulling his brother near, wrapping his hand firmly around Loki’s waist, the other still holding Loki’s wrist in a bruising grip. Loki tries squirming out of Thor’s hold, but Thor only tightens his hold on his brother, burying his head in the crook of Loki’s neck, closing his eyes.

Loki’s body goes slack against his, and Thor can feel his brother’s racing pulse against the side of his face. A shiver runs up Thor’s spine making the heavy, leaden weight of horror settled in the pit of his stomach unravel at that undeniable proof of life. 

The last time Thor had Loki this close had been on the training grounds, months ago, and he had been holding nothing back as he strived to bring Loki to his knees in the dirt, anger coursing through Thor’s veins. Now, there is nothing better in the entire Nine Realms than the warmth emanating from his brother’s body and the fresh and clean scent of Loki’s skin Thor inhales with every shuddering breath he takes.

Thor has no idea how much time has passed, too content to simply hold his brother close, and let the images from his dream dissolve into nothingness, before Loki twists and pulls back, as little as he can with Thor still adamant at holding him within his arms.

“Thor, let go.” He demands, but Thor ignores his words. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Thor still remembers how still Loki had been, his eyes closed, never to be opened again. Turning his head, Thor places a soft, light kiss on the pulse point in Loki’s neck. Loki’s body grows rigid, his voice coming out alarmed. “Thor, what is wrong with you, you idiot? Let go of me. Now, or I swear, you will regret it.”

Loki means it, but even the familiar agitation in his brother’s voice is more than welcome for once. Another sign that Loki is alive and well. Sighing, Thor releases his hold on Loki, opening his eyes. Contrary to what Thor expected, Loki does not move away from the bed, merely leans back, studying Thor’s face with an expression of both curiosity and suspicion. And annoyance. Thor cannot remember when had been the last time here was not at least a small amount of annoyance in his brother’s eyes directed at him.

“So, care to tell what spurred this display?” Loki asks, but his voice holds less venom than usual.

Thor scoots back, leaning against the headboard, suddenly feeling weary and old. So very old. “You are my brother.” He says with a half-shrug. He knows his brother, knows how sharp is his tongue, no less than the daggers he favours, and telling him about his dream would only result in mockery. Also, he does not want to give voice to the images from his dream. They have felt real enough without it. “Can I not give my brother a hug?”

Loki’s eyes narrow fractionally in suspicion. “Not while sober, no. At least, not lately.” Loki says bluntly, and, for some reason, the words hurt. But then again, the truth always hurts more than even the terrible of lies. “What did you dream about, Thor?”

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitches. Of course Loki would not accept his feeble excuse. “What does it matter?”

“You were howling like an animal. I am surprised you have not woken half of this realm.”

“I am awake now. So it hardly matters.”

Loki presses his lips together, a look of frustration and annoyance flashing in his eyes, but it is gone in an instant, a calculated expression taking its place. “It must have been something terrible.” Loki muses out loud, inclining his head as he studies Thor’s face. A small smirk stretches his lips. “Was it Mjölnir? Has she denied you her loyalty? Deemed you unworthy?”

Thor thinks about it for a moment. It has been his greatest fear for as long as he had been able to lift the hammer. Fear he only ever acknowledged in those unguarded moments between sleep and waking. But now, in light of his dream, that fear pales to a minor annoyance.

“If I say yes, would that sate your curiosity, brother?” Thor asks softly, smiling.

Loki blinks, clearly taken aback. He studies Thor silently a long moment, his face, for once, an open book even Thor can read. Loki is annoyed and curious, and would wish for nothing more than pry the truth out of Thor, but he seems to come to a realization that this time, his curiosity will remain unsated.

Pushing himself off the bed, Loki throws a glare at Thor. “It matters little, in the end. It will never come to pass, whatever it had been.” Loki says evenly, but there is something heavy in his voice Thor cannot name. It could be hurt, or resentment. It could even be envy. It has been a long time since Thor could read his brother. _If_ he ever could. “Not even Norns would dare to inspire some humility in the golden prince of Asgard.”

When Thor stays silent, Loki sighs. “Sleep well, brother, we still have a mighty beast to catch.” Loki says, and Thor cannot help but smile. Loki had been against this quest from the beginning, his mood progressively becoming fouler the longer they stayed empty handed, bereft of their prize. “ _If_ it exists, of which I am still not entirely sure.”

When Loki turns, intent on heading back to his room, Thor suddenly feels panicked, the memory of his dream returning with full force.

“Loki.” He blurts out before he has a chance to think things through, sounding urgent, almost desperate. “Wait.”

“What is it?” Loki asks without turning around, clearly annoyed.

“Is the sight of me such a hardship for you, brother?”

“Oh for…” Loki mutters something unintelligible, probably a curse, but he turns to face Thor. “You can be so melodramatic sometimes, Thor. What is it _now_?”

Thor pushes himself to the side and pats the empty space next to himself, keeping his gaze fixed on Loki’s face. “Stay.” He says simply, his voice sounding much firmer that Thor would expect it to, considering the twisting turmoil of feelings inside the hollow of his chest.

Loki’s eyebrows shoot up in wonder, startled surprise evident on his face. “We are not children anymore, Thor.” He says finally, his voice surprisingly void of mockery. Sounding almost wistful.

“But we are brothers still.”

“And you are confident that is argument enough?”

“Is it not?”

Loki stays silent, seemingly in thought. Thor cannot tell what Loki’s decision will be. Cannot even venture a guess, still partially surprised by his hastily voiced plea. But he feels no regret for making it. Despite the vast potential for mockery.

“I cannot believe I am even considering this.” Loki sighs, but he is already moving, his steps unusually hesitant as he approaches Thor’s bed. Fixing Thor with a stern glare, he adds. “We will never speak of this, Thor. _Ever_.”

Thor only smiles in response, pulling the covers back and allowing Loki to settle on the bed next to him, his back turned on Thor. Pulling the covers over Loki, Thor hesitates only a moment before wrapping his arm around Loki and pulling him closer.

Loki snorts, but allows Thor to snuggle closer. “It must have been a truly horrific dream.”

Thor closes his eyes, his lips stretching into a content smile. “It matters little. It had been only a dream.” He whispers softly into the crown of Loki’s head, relived and content, allowing sleep to overtake him. “Only a dream.”

***

When Thor wakes up, it is to the sensation of warmth emanating from the body in his arms, filling him with the immense sense of relief.

Taking a deep breath, but unwilling to open his eyes yet, almost as if he has not felt this relaxed in a long time, he opens his mouth to tease his brother about smelling like their Mother’s garden in spring, but then his brother moves, a soft – too soft, almost feminine – sigh escapes his lips and he moves closer, and Thor becomes aware of the wrongness of the body within his arms. 

Thor’s eyes snap open, his entire body growing cold as the memories rush back and the reality crashes all around him.

A dream. It had been only a dream. A wonderful dream, but only that. Loki is dead. His brother is gone, never to come back. Left only a memory. Alive and well only in his dreams.

And Thor, for all his strength, power and might, cannot change that.

Closing his eyes, Thor pulls Jane closer, and waits for the dawn to come.


	16. Chapter 16

Loki had assumed bringing Thor as his date for Helblindi’s wedding would ruin said wedding.

In the case his father managed not to explode the moment Loki appeared with Thor, Loki had assumed he would do all in his power to keep them from each other. At any cost.

In the – highly unlikely case – his father accepted Thor as Loki’s date gracefully, Loki had assumed they would be given separate rooms.

Loki had assumed wrong.

Staring dumbfounded at the large bed – _and just when have they moved it in here?_ – in the middle of his old room, Loki almost misses the sight of Thor coming out of the bathroom in nothing but black boxers, blond hair damp from the shower.

Still processing the sight of one bed, Loki only partly notes that yes, Thor Odinson is even more a magnificent sight _without_ his clothes than he is fully dressed. As cliché as it may sound, there is a definite parallel between him and Greek sculptures – tanned skin, broad shoulders and well-defined muscles, rippling as Thor casually strolls past him, heading straight for the bed.

Only when Thor is already sitting down on the right side of it, fumbling with the covers, does Loki’s mind catches up with the proceedings.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Loki manages to croak, his voice bordering on hysterical.

Thor frowns, looking puzzled. “I am going to sleep.” He says slowly. At Loki’s continued disbelieving stare, Thor sighs. “I’m tired, Loki. With hockey practice and mid-terms, I cannot remember when I slept longer than four hours a day.”

_Yeah, right. And Sif has nothing to do with your lack of sleep._

Loki bites back that reply. Thor’s sex life has nothing to do with him. This is a business transaction – Thor’s time and acting abilities in exchange for Loki’s silence. And sharing a bed is not a part of it.

“Then go to sleep, just not there.”

“And where should I sleep?” Thor asks, irritatingly patient, while Loki feels like steam will start to go out of his ears any time now. “There is only one bed here.”

“Floor is large enough even for your overgrown self, Odinson.” Loki snaps, irritated to the point of struggling for words. “Use it.”

“And so is this bed.” Thor points out, a corner of his mouth lifting in a hint of a smile.

“Then where will I sleep?” Loki asks, hating that he sounds like a petulant child, instead of a reasonable adult.

The hint of a smile grows into a full-blow grin as Thor glances pointedly at the truly large bed. “This bed is large enough for both of us.”

“I am not sleeping with you.”

“Thanks to your lies, your family believes the exact opposite.”

Loki opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. There is a truly wicked glint in Thor’s blue eyes, and it sparks a strange reaction in Loki. A desire to channel it into something other than a pointless bickering.

“You seem to enjoy yourself far too much.” Loki grumbles, crossing his hands over his chest.

Thor scoots back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and, for a second, Loki is fascinated by the play of Thor’s muscles as he arranges himself more comfortably on the bed. 

When Loki finally looks up, forcing his eyes into obedience, there is a smug expression on Thor’s face, and Loki wishes he could smother the arrogant bastard with a pillow.

“You are the one who has blackmailed me into this.” Thor smiles, bright and cocky, and Loki hates him for that damnable effortless charm which has the entire university look at him with stars in their eyes. “I see no reason to suffer through it.”

Loki forces his eyes to stay focused on Thor’s face, and not stray lower. “I am not joking, Odinson.” Loki warns, fixing Thor with a glare. “I am not sharing a bed with you.”

A spark of irritation flashes across Thor’s face, but it is gone in an instant, replaced by a weary expression which almost makes Loki feel sorry for dragging Thor into his schemes. _Almost._

“Loki, I really _am_ tired, and there is an entire week of pretending we are together ahead of us.” Thor says, sounding less cocky, and more, well, tired as he’d said. “If you’re afraid, I can assure you I don’t make it a habit molesting people in their sleep.

Loki merely continues glaring at Thor, unwilling to concede defeat, despite the fact that what Thor had said makes sense. A whole lot more than Loki’s objections.

“Come on, Loki, you are supposed to be the level headed one.” Thor sighs. “I’m tired, and I would bet even that scheming mind of yours needs rest. So why don’t you do the sensible thing and lie down? The bed is really huge.”

Loki’s eyes narrow into slits, the muscles in his jaw twitching with annoyance and helpless frustration. Nothing is going according to his plan. His father has been furious when Loki came waltzing in with Thor’s hand wrapped firmly around his waist, but he had managed to restrain himself, almost polite in his dealings with Thor. As if it is an everyday occurrence for him to have his younger son announce he is involved in a relationship with his rival’s _son_. And does it a week before the wedding that has been in the works almost since Helblindi’s birth.

And now this.

And why is Thor so calm about this charade? Not that Loki wants a display of his famous temper, but Thor seems overly relaxed for someone who has been blackmailed into posing as Loki’s lover slash boyfriend slash love of Loki’s life. 

Sighing, Thor lies down, dragging the covers over himself. “Suit yourself.” He says, resigned. “Goodnight, Loki.”

Loki stares at the outline of Thor’s body on the bed, his mouth opened around a protest, but the words stay lodged inside his throat, his hands shaking with anger. He almost considers the floor himself, but that would make him look like a fool, and it would be uncomfortable as hell. Also, Loki cannot risk anyone suspecting all this is just a lie. Which leaves him with only one course of action.

Sighing, he turns off the light, and climbs in the bed, making sure he stays as far as he can from Thor.

Shutting his eyes, Loki tries not to pay attention to the other body in the bed, but it seems impossible. It is like Thor’s larger-than-life presence cannot be muted by a simple lack of light.

“Loki?”

Loki ignores Thor, jaw firmly clenched, hands gripping covers in a white-knuckled grip.

“I know you are not asleep. Your breathing is irregular.” Thor points out, and Loki can imagine the smug smile stretching Thor’s lips.

“Aren’t you supposed to be tired, Odinson?” Loki snaps. “This is bad enough without having to listen to you.”

A low chuckle drifts over to Loki. “Is that any way to speak to your lover?”

“Odinson, I _will_ hurt you.”

“Very well, it can wait. But we will have a long conversation before this week is over.” Thor says, and Loki swallows nervously, his heart skipping beat. There is a hint of something – not quite a warning, but not far from it – in Thor’s voice, and Loki does not like it in the least. And the prospect of having to answer Thor’s questions, he likes even less.

“Oh, and Loki?”

“What is it now?”

“You should call me by my name when we are alone.” Thor says, softly, and it sends a flutter of warmth in the pit of Loki’s stomach. “So you don’t slip up in front of your family.”

“How nice of you to worry about my affairs. I’m flattered.” Loki sneers, annoyed, but he is more annoyed with his own ridiculous responses to Thor’s proximity than the man himself. Thor has sycophants in droves, foolish creatures who don’t see past the dazzling smile and blue eyes – and muscles, must not forget _those_ – and now, it seems, after only a day in his company, Loki is well on his way to become one of them.

“Well?” Thor prompts after a moment of silence.

“Well what?” Loki all but growls, seriously considering his previous idea of smothering Thor with a pillow. Nothing is worth this aggravation. Not even wrecking Helblindi’s big day and embarrassing father.

“Say my name.”

For a moment, Loki is rendered speechless. Then the initial shock fads, leaving room for incredulity. It is ridiculous, to have this conversation in the darkness, lying in bed, without even facing each other, but nothing today has gone the way Loki had expected, so why should he not lead this surreal conversation in equally surreal circumstances? “Are you insane? Why does it matter to you how I call you?”

“I will have to face my family after this is all over and lie to them about what has happened here. The least you can do is do me the courtesy of calling me by my name.”

For the first time since agreeing to Loki’s terms, Thor sounds angry. And over something as inconsequential as this. He never calls him by his name. And it has never been an issue.

Rolling his eyes, Loki scoffs. “ _Fine_. You want me to say your name? I will, if it will make you shut up. Thor, Thor, Thor, _Thor_.” Taking a deep breath, Loki resists the urge to roll over and punch Thor in the face. “There, I said it, are you satisfied?”

“It’s a start.” Thor says thoughtfully, but there is a note of playfulness in his voice which sets all Loki’s nerves on fire. “Now all you need is work on your tone.”

“You really are insufferable.”

Thor chuckles at that, but otherwise remains silent.

****

Warmth is what wakes Loki.

At first, he doesn’t know where he is, his mind still sluggish and only half-awake, and all he wants is to stay close to the source of the warmth, but then said source releases a sigh, and Loki’s eyes shoot wide open, his first instinct to sit up, but he doesn’t get far, trapped as he is by two strong hands, wrapped around his middle.

Alarm turns quickly into annoyance when he remembers how he had ended up in his current position – being spooned by Thor Odinson. But annoyance is also short-lived, turning into something Loki does not want to examine deeper, something which sends a pleasant shiver down Loki’s spine, some insane part of him which sees no reason for not arching his back and rubbing his ass against the hard body plastered to his back. Especially one part of said hard body.

Pushing those urges back – way, way back – to the darkest corners of his mind, Loki tries to squirm away without waking Thor, but that only earns him a tighter grip around his middle, and Thor moving after him, closing even that minute space that existed between their bodies.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Loki curses under his breath and tries again, but his squirming only makes things worse. Or harder, as the case might be. And he cannot even blame Thor for his bodies’ responses – it’s a simple matter of friction and warmth of another body, nothing else. It’s not like Thor actually knows who he is holding. For all Loki knows, the idiot is dreaming about Sif.

Frowning, Loki clenches his jaw, vicious joy filling him at the thought of Sif seeing them like this. And it doesn’t even matter that it’s not real. The look on her face would be priceless.

Thor shifts, arranging himself around Loki, and Loki almost yelps in surprise at a feel of calloused fingers against the skin of his stomach where his shirt is riding up. Apparently satisfied, Thor releases a contented sigh which Loki can actually feel, because the damn idiot, who has a grip of an octopus, is currently _nuzzling_ him.

It hits him then, a realization that this is what it would be if Thor were actually his lover. He would have Thor’s hands wrapped around him each night, along with the sense of warmth, safety and belonging they are offering. He would even own these contented little sighs Thor keeps making as he snuggles even closer, almost like he is trying to merge them together. And yeah, there would be an entire world of possibilities to explore involving a rather impressive erection settled against Loki’s backside.

But it is not his. Thor is not his. It’s only a lie, a forced bargain in exchange for Loki’s silence. And if Loki ever even stood a chance, blackmailing Thor into this charade would have quite successfully shattered all his chances. For some insane reason, it makes Loki’s chest tighten with a sense of loss and longing.

Grimacing, Loki hisses. “Thor, _Thor_ , wake up.”

Thor goes rigid and still against Loki, releasing a low growl of protest, but he doesn’t move or release Loki out of his grip.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Loki elbows Thor. _Hard_.

That has the desired effect. Thor grunts and loosens his grip, which gives Loki chance to release himself out of it. Loki sits up, and turns on the small reading light, turning toward Thor. Belatedly, Loki realises his mistake. Thor, curse the bastard, looks good even when startled awake, his hair mussed and eyes blurry and unfocused.

“What happened to not molesting people in their sleep?”

Thor blinks up at him, a small frown creasing his forehead, but there is a silly grin on his lips which really has no place there. “Loki.” He says, voice low and hoarse, and it sends a shiver down Loki’s spine, and a string of images through Loki’s mind, all involving Thor on his knees, looking up at Loki.

Cursing himself inwardly, Loki scowls at Thor. “I’m not Sif, so do me a favour and keep your cock away from me.”

Thor blinks, then frowns, pushing himself up on his elbows, his eyes flicking toward his still covered groin. “Oh.” He says, and has enough decency to look sheepish, but not enough for an apology. Unless a cheeky grin is what passes as one in Thor’s mind.

Loki narrows his eyes and releases a disgusted sound. “Just keep away from me unless you want to be woken by a bucket of ice cold water.”

That damn grin only widens, as Thor inclines his head, his eyes raking over Loki as if he is the one almost naked here. “It’s interesting how someone as prickly as you can make such a soft pillow.”

Loki’s vision turns red, but some of it finds its way to his cheeks. “I swear to god, Odinson, I will make you pay for this.”

Thor chuckles, shaking his head, then he flops down on the bed. “And we are back to Odinson.” He says, lightly, but there is a hint of something sad in the corners of his smile. “But, to be fair, you’re the one blackmailing me, not the other way around.”

Grinding his teeth together, Loki turns off the light, using more force than necessary, and pulls the covers tightly around himself before lying down. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

A long, drawn out sigh is his only answer for a long time, then, when Loki is almost relaxed, on the verge of drifting back to sleep, a low, almost wistful, voice breaks the silence, startling him into full wakefulness more efficiently than a bucket of ice-cold water ever could.

“I knew you’re not Sif, Loki.”

Thor stays silent after that, his breathing evening out fairly soon, but Loki doesn’t go back to sleep that night, kept awake by the echo of that soft voice, and his own thundering heartbeat.


End file.
